Fear of Crows
by rune101
Summary: Angry and confused, Scarecrow awakes in the Narrows - the presence of Jonathan completely vanished. When opportunity strikes, will the Crow behind the Scare follow the Bat to redemption or drown in old memories? Bruce/Scarecrow.
1. Chapter 1: Missing You, Missing Me

A/N:: The inspiration for these two came about from me reading the fic "Georgian Nights" by the lovely and talented: Saitaina R. Moricia. Yes, you should definitely check it out. So without further adeiu, I bring you one of the first Bruce/Scarecrow (as the main pairing) fics. Enjoy~

Disclaimer~ I do not own, nor do I claim to own, any of the characters or settings depicted herein. I merely own the stories and plots in which I have created.

* * *

Chapter 1: Missing You, Missing Me (1/2)

Jonathan paced the rundown streets of Gotham that he could barely put a name to. He couldn't feel Jonathan. It was like the man had disappeared.

Scarecrow screamed. It was night; the sky pitch black and the smokey polluted Gotham air blowing coldly in his face as he tried to recall how he had gotten out of Arkham. He wanted his fear toxin. He felt naked without its protection. Much like how the Bat probably felt without his cowl.

The Bat. He probably had a hand in this, Scarecrow thought. There was no explanation and definitely no rationalization left in his mind. That part of them-him- had always been Jonation's part. The man held the intellect and he withheld the self-restraint. Like yin and yang. It was a perfect balance of terror and fear, power and powerlessness.

But now it was gone. Scarecrow could only feel himself inside the head once filled with two.

"Jonathan?" Scarecrow meekly called. The fear in his voice made him double over and dry heave. He was never afraid. Then again, Jonathan was never gone; sometimes buried, sometimes in a sleep-like state, but never fully disappeared.

For the first time in the entirety of his existance, an existance in which he thought was meant to support Jonathan, he was alone. And he was afraid.

"Master Bruce, are you quite certain that you are able to attend this evenings charity gathering? I've noticed you haven't been getting much sleep lately," Alfred said, a familiar look of worry crossing his features.

It was true. Three days and less than four hours of sleep to operate on wasn't exactly the best situation to put himself in. But he knew he had to go through with it none-the-less. "I'll be fine Alfred." Bruce only hoped he would.

Alfred sighed. He knew that no matter what he said Bruce wouldn't change his mind. That was just the nature of the stubborn man. "Alright. But do try to careful."

Bruce nodded, grabbing his mug of coffee and making his way to his car. He had an office to sit in for a few hours, and as he pressed the ignition button, he thought hopefully about the sleep he may have been able to catch up on.

On the way there, there was the expected traffic. Bruce cursed himself for not leaving earlier. To top it all off the car in front of him seemed to be moving at a snail's pace. Bruce was almost tempted to cut in front of it, but quickly dismissed the idea. As the traffic finally started to inch forward, Bruce saw what had caused the delay. A car accident.

It was times likes these that Bruce realized the extent of Batman's "power". He couldn't stop everything. He could try, at times in vain, to stop criminals. But he couldn't save everyone. Right now from his vantage point he could see the unconscious bodies of those involved in the crash being strapped down and lifted into the two ambulances. Before one of quite a few officers had gone around, tapping on peoples' windows and redirecting traffic, Bruce had seen the extent of the accident. A three-way crash that resulted in a sideways SUV, toppled pickup, and heavily damaged cab. There was a sickening circle of cracked glass and blood on the driver's side of the windshield where the driver's head most likely made contact during the accident.

As Bruce drove forward, in-line with all the other redirected cars, he could feel his quickened pulse. Nothing boded well from the looks of things. Any survivors would be a miracle.

Bruce arrived, parking his car and stepping into Wayne Enterprises. It didn't shake him that people would die; no it wasn't as if he didn't care, he did, that was the whole reason of Batman's existence- what shook him to the core though was the feeling of powerlessness. Not he, nor even Batman could have prevented that from happening. Bruce sighed, sipping from his coffee that had long since gone cold.

No sooner than he had stepped into his office, his secretary had buzzed in. "Mr. Wayne, you have Executive Ryler in to see you."

"Tell him I'm on my way," Bruce said, replacing the suit jacket he had just taken off.

"Will do, thank you sir." With that the intercom made a low beep, indicative that that was all that needed to be said.

Bruce made his way to the elevator, going down two floors and promtly exited, heading into the boarding room. When he entered, the business officials, in their expensive suits and ties nodded towards him in greeting as he took a seat at the head of the table.

The man who was talking stopped, turning towards Bruce. He nodded as well, putting out his hand, "Mr. Wayne." Bruce shook his hand and smiled politely at the man, "Executive Ryler."

"As I was previously explaining to your associates, sir, I think you should seriously consider the benefits of hopping on the media bandwagon, so to speak." Bruce nodded and the man took that as the go-ahead to continue. "You see, partnering with my company will be a very good thing for both of us-"

"How-so?" Bruce interrupted, hands folded in front of his face.

"Well it's purely a business deal, you see. My company has several channels on the air and coordinates serveral charites as well as a small local newspaper. It's just to expand we need-"

"Funding," Bruce finished, clearing his voice. His business associates eyed him wearily, before Bruce noticed the clipped tone he held and cleared his throat.

"So, a-are you interested? At all?" The brunet man, Ryler was his name, looked to be on the edge of his nerves, nervous about the deal falling through. Bruce had researched them before, they were legitimate, but they severely lacked needed funding to keep operating. If this deal fell through, the company would go bankrupt and dissolve.

"Of course," Bruce smiled warmly, putting his hand out. "Welcome aboard, I'll have the details worked out over the next few days." With that the meeting was concluded and eceryone filed out, leaving Ryler and Bruce alone.

"If I may speak candidly sir?"

"You may," Bruce said, gathering up the man's charts and posters and handing it to him.

"Thank you," he said accepting it. "I thought for a second you were going to reject the proposal, I just wanted you to know that profits will be shared and your company will get much out of this partnership."

Bruce patted the man on the shoulder causing him to blush and smiled at how easily the man flustered. "Don't worry, I'm not going to back out of this." With that he turned around, exiting the room.

The man finished gathering his presentation things and exited as well.

"Stay with us! Come on," voices swirled around his head. Round and round like a spinning tea cup. "We can't get a steady pulse. He's flatlining. Clear!"

Clear... The blurry morphed faces of the people above him dissolved into a clear blue sky. He walked forward, seeing green grass and spring flowers, something that felt foreign and familiar at the same time. To the far right was a man sitting tranquilly under a tree, glasses slipping off his nose slightly whilst reading a large book. The brunet stood up, waving at him to follow, but continued walking forward.

"Who are you?" He screamed, but the words wouldn't come out and his legs wouldn't move. He watched as the man continued to walk away. "Who are you?" He tried again, this time the words coming out as a whisper, but the man was already too far away to hear. "Who... Who...am I?" He stared down at his hands, turning his palms in and outward and studying it. He didn't recognize these hands.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

A/N: Reviews are always appreciated and remember, if you did/do not like this, please hit the back button and let others enjoy. Thank you~


	2. Chapter 2: Missing You, Missing Me

A/N:: By now you may, or may not, have realized that I have included an OC or two. Not to worry, none of them play a big part, their only purpose is to help move along a few parts of the fic. Heck, only one even has a name.

Disclaimer~ Located in: Chapter 1

* * *

Chapter 2: Missing You, Missing Me (2/2)

Bruce sighed with a large measure of happiness that the charity gathering was to be moved from its original location to a high class five star hotel. No, it wasn't the better view that he was thankful for, it was the two hour delay of the party itself. It would take about forty-five minutes to get there and fifteen minutes for him to get ready leaving a whole hour for sleep.

As soon as he got out of the car he practically ran toward the house, waiting as impatiently as a child for Alfred to open the door, and running into his room, diving in to his bed.

It was times like these that he was glad to not have a lover. The nights were never lonely with being Batman and ridding the streets of criminals, and the days were filled with work, but on the rare off-chance that he wasn't busy, he sometimes wished his mansion had a permanent occupant other than himself and Alfred.

The bright side of being alone was at least there'd be no one to see him slobber all over his pillows as he snored and slept with his mouth open - a direct product of his exhaustion. Yeah, that was a good thing.

_Vrmmm vrmmm vrmmm_

Half an hour into Bruce's comatose-like sleep and his cell phone was vibrating, the noise tripled because of its place on his solid wood side table.

_Vrmmm vrmmm vrmmm vrmmm_

It continued to ring, seemingly as if the dialer had refused to go to voicemail and just redialed the call. Bruce blindly whipped his arm out, searching for the familiar thin rectangle of his Htc Evo 4g.

He held the phone in his hand for a moment, blinking twice to unblur his vision and stared at the number. The area code was within Gotham but the number wasn't in his contacts. He debated with himself wheter he should pick it up or not until finally giving in to the callers persistance and sliding over the green "accept call" phone icon.

"Hello," he answered groggily.

"Ah Mr. Wayne, I apologize if this is a bad time but I've got something important I need to discuss with you. It can't wait."

Bruce sat up on his bed, rubbing his eye. "Yes?"

"I'm not sure if you are aware of it or not but recently, today actually, there was a fatal crash. Our news reporting team has got this story covered."

"Okay, and please do explain my part in all this Mr..." Bruce trailed off, hazy mind unable to recall the name of who he was talking to.

"Oh my apologies, it's Mr. Ryler. Out of the five people involved in the crash, one has survived. He's currently in ICU, but this could be a miracle story to propel us forward."

"Would you care to explain?" Bruce rubbed his face, eyes darting to the clock. He now had ten minutes before he had to get up.

"Well he's our John Doe. He sustained massive head injuries along with everything else. It's not likely that he'll have no kind of memory disfunction or loss. If we could highlight this man's survival, with you at the head of it, our company is talking about millions. I know the way this may sound but people love a survival story - in a way it can be a thing of hope. If anything, hope is what this city needs."

"When?" Is all Bruce asked.

"Huh? Oh, the special starts on Saturday, two days from now. The filming time is up to you, whenever you're available sir."

"I suppose I can be flexible throughout the week, but," Bruce added with a false hint of innuendo, "my nights are full."

"Oh. Oh, I mean yes, yes of course." The man stuttered.

Bruce smiled through the phone, "I have to go now, thank you though." And with that Bruce waited for the man on the other end to mutter a 'you're welcome,' before hanging up.

Bruce let his phone flop out of his hand and fall on to the bed. After the motion he got up, stepping in to the large shower and turning the water on to a perfect temperture between hot and cold. He quickly washed his hair, lathering and rinsing his body with a scented bodywash.

Afterwards he pushed in the nozzel, the water instantly shutting off and quickly towel dried himself before blow drying his hair, shaving his already clean shaven face, and dressing in a firmly pressed suit.

The finishing touches included a few spritzes of Clive Christian No.1 cologne. Bruce took a breath and inhaled the familiar scent of the cologne that he loved. It was a tad bit pricey, but definitely well worth it.

Bruce then stepped outside, a limousine waiting. He was fully aware that, despite his complaints and objections, that the hostess had sent for a limousine for all her guests of honor. He went open the door and a man quickly exited the driver's, opening it for him and closing it behind him before getting back in to the drivers seat and starting the vehicle.

The whole action kind of wore on Bruce's nerves, just because he happened to have a lot of money didn't mean he needed to be waited on hand and foot for his every need, unlike some other members of high society that he had to deal with; namely, almost everyone who would be attending the charity gathering. It made Bruce wonder how many of those snide people actually cared about what they were doing, and not just caring about attending and being seen at such an event. Truth be told, Bruce hated it. But he had to keep up appearances.

The ride was quiet for the most part. Unlike most limousine drivers that Bruce had had, this man didn't say anything, and there were no attempts at small talk, so Bruce did the same and remained quiet as well. The only sounds were that of the heavy rain that was quite frequent as of late.

Upon arriving the man got out of the car, opened a large black umbrella and made his way over to Bruce's door, opening it and holding it upwards to shield Bruce from the rain as he exited the limo. He walked with Bruce, still holding the umbrella over him until they were at the entrance to the hotel and turned. When Bruce took out his wallet and made a move to offer the man money, he quickly shook his head before getting back in to the limo and pulling away.

Bruce raised an eyebrow before shaking his head. That was...weird.

He replaced the money in his wallet and walked in to the hotel.

Inside violinists were playing, balloons were decoratively placed everywhere and four long tables filled with food lined the sides of the spacious room. A woman dressed in a sleek red outfit with a tray of glasses filled with white champagne walked by, offering Bruce one. Bruce nodded a thanks, giving a sexy half smile that made the woman blush and hurry on, offering champagne to the other guests.

"I see you're still charming as ever." Bruce smiled at the hint of sarcasm in Rachel's voice before he slowly turned around, making sure Harvey was no where in sight before placing a kiss on her cheek.

Rachel jokingly pushed his chest. "Sorry, but I'm afraid I'm immune to your charms." Rachel laughed slightly.

"Glad you could make it, I really didn't want to be alone with all these rich prudes," Bruce whispered with a smile.

"But aren't you one of them?" Rachel raised a brow before chuckling softly.

Bruce dismissed the Rachel's words with a question. "So, where's your knight in shining white armor?"

"Harvey? He's floundering," Rachel pointed towards the northern-most food table, "over there. I said wanted salmon and I guess he wants to accomplish getting it at all costs." Harvey was seen arguing with a rather rotund woman as he filled two plates full of salmon and stalked off in their direction.

"Hey," Harvey said to Bruce, still looking slightly frazzeled. He handed one plate to Rachel who took it with a smile and a 'thank you'.

"Hey," Bruce said, returning the greeting with the slight raise of his glass. Bruce waved goodbye and turned, making his way to a table of three models, which he could tell by their figures. The blonde one, who was carefully biting a piece of celery while sipping a glass of water turned towards Bruce and smiled.

Bruce smiled back, offering her his arm, which as expected, she took with a look of giddy happiness. With blonde now practically attached to his shoulder, Bruce made his way to the head of the room, greeting a few CEOs he'd regognized from big companies who dropped everything they were doing to talk to the billionaire.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you could at this time please find a seat, that would be very much appreciated." As the chatting died down people made their way to nearest seats, sitting down with the those they had been previously chatting with. "This charity started out as a big dream with only a small group of visionaries - but now it's a reality. We've helped this year alone over four hundred Gotham citizens get their life back after tragedies have occured."

'Joker, Scarecrow-' Bruce started mentally listing off the culprits of those "tragedies".

"And together we've made a difference. We've brought back hope to these citizens of Gotham."

There the word was again, Bruce thought. Hope.

"I would just like everyone to give a big round of applause to Bruce Wayne and Wayne Enterprises, one of our biggest supporters." The applause started and Bruce stood up, smiling around the room and waving slightly before sitting back down. "Thank you, I hope everyone enjoys their night and please, don't be shy, there's plenty of food." There were polite laughs across the room at that.

Bruce then got up, shook the hand of the woman at the head of the charity organization and called a cab home. He didn't really care to stick around any longer than he had to.

After retuning home, Bruce was pleased to find that Gotham creeps had decided not to come out for the night and he relaxed, flipping on the TV and undressing until he was comfortably laying in just his boxers.

'Earlier today there was a fatal crash at the scene of downtown Gotham,' a news reporter said, her face serious. Pictures of the accident with the license plates blurred out were shown before the woman continued. 'Three people who have yet to be released were pronounced dead at the scene. Later today, fifteen year Laney Gray, a survivor of the accident, passed away at the hospital. The condition of the final person has not been released. I'm Sarah Redd, and this is your ten o'clock news.'

'Hey guys, the weather for the rest of the week is looking pretty gloomy. Tonight you can expect light showers, heavy rain with a chance of storm on Friday and Saturday, Sunday we're looking at light showers again and cloudy on Monday with highs of about 62 degrees so it-' Bruce hit the power button on the remote to the TV and sighed. Just great. He was supposed to start filming that "special" on Saturday. Gotham sure picked the right day for the weather to suck.

There was the sound of something being sprayed. An aerosol can of some sort? Then laughter. It was the sound of childrens laughter. Not happy and pure. Teasing and mocking.

The laughter turned into something else. Whispers of things he couldn't hear. He wanted to lash out but there was nothing to lash out at. His feet no longer felt like cement so he ran. He ran forward straight in to a city. The city looked somewhat familiar, but cold dark and unwelcoming.

He continued to meander, turning and wandering. The sight of a bat came into view, but it was quickly taking off through a dark alley. Without a second thought or hesitation he followed it, coming out on the other end, instead of a dirty darkened part of the city, a quiet park with the sun high in the sky. At the end of the park on a bench sat an attractive man in a suit with dark hair and piercing brown eyes. He ran towards him, afraid he too would disappear but the man didn't. When he made his way to the bench the man smiled at him, the bat hovered over the both of them before disappearing.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

A/N:: Reviews are always appreciated, they're the driving force behind me updating.


	3. Chapter 3: Follow the Bat

A/N:: There will be a slight time skip, of a day that is, so not too bad. If you've reviewed, do know that yes, I truly appreciate you taking the time to do so.

Disclaimer~ Located in: Chapter 1

* * *

Chapter 3: Follow the Bat (1/2)

"Bat!" He bolted up, screaming the word. That was all he could hold onto. He could no longer remember the deatails of the city, the sounds of laughter... All of it was gone. He remember a bat. That was it. And he wanted to hold on to that. That was his everything. His all...all he had left.

"Doctor! Someone get a doctor in here, we need a sedative. C'mon, help me hold him down before he hurts himself." The voice rang strong and clear but he couldn't put meaning to the words. Woman. That was all that came up. As he tried to move he felt himself being restrained before there was a pinch and the room spun.

He didn't pass out but he couldn't move his jaw, which had slackened to form words. His limbs followed suit, becoming heavy and numb, as if they no longer belonged to him.

"He seems to have stabilized," a doctor said above the unidentifiable man. There was no ID or anything that could help to even hint at who the blue-eyed brunet was. He was just a John Doe right now.

After an hour had passed, a nurse gently took the man's hand and began asking questions in a soft voice. "Do you remember your name?"

"My name..." He repeated.

"Yes. Your name. What do people call you?"

"People call...you."

"No, uhm, what do people call you," she emphasized.

He smiled at the gentleness in her voice. "You. Me." When she nodded he looked away. "I don't recall who...me is."

The nurse smiled again, rubbing his palm with her thumb. "Memory loss, slight brain function damage. Nothing too serious though." She wrote that down. "How old are you? Can you remember?"

"Remember. Old," he muttered, a look of concentration adorning his features. "I apologize. I can't seem to...remember."

"That's okay," the nurse said with a smile, her cheeks coloring slightly, "it's to be expected," the nurse caught herself, the man before her had sounded so sophisticated for a moment that she had almost let herself forget she was talking to an amnesiac. She softened her words. "So what all do you know?"

"I know but," his head started to clear from its sedated cloudy state, "don't remember."

"What sorts of things do you know?"

He remembered his dream. "Bats, the city, the park. Green grass."

"That's a start. Do you know where you are now?"

He looked around and instantly, for some reason it clicked. "A medical facility."

The nurse looked slightly taken aback. "Yes, yes very good." She let go of his hand and pulled two things out of a drawer. "This is a car," she held up a red toy Hot Wheels. And this is a cake," she held up a card with a picture and the word 'cake' on it. She held it in front of him for thirty seconds then put it back. After waiting about two minutes she looked back up at the brunet. "Now what were the two items that you saw?"

"I saw a red toy car and a birthday cake on a card." He answered.

"Okay." She took the clipboard that she had been writing on and wrote something else. "Thank you, it's been wonderful to meet you." And with that she exited, clipboard in hand.

Bruce sat slumped in the waiting room along with a full camera crew and Ryler. The crew seemed excited enough, even with the looks of disdain that they seemed to attract from doctors, nurses, patients, and visitors alike.

Bruce was about to get a cup of water before a doctor approached him. "Mr. Wayne, you may see him." As the camera crew stood up the doctor shook his head, pointing to the exit. "No filming allowed in the waiting room. The patient has a form of amnesia so he cannot agree to terms of filming, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

At that moment Bruce almost felt childish enough to stick his tongue out and laugh. Well not really, but the thought was comforting.

Bruce kept his eyes straight, avoiding looking in to any rooms whose doors remained open, out of respect.

When they entered, a man to the right was staring at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought. He had a sling over his right arm, and his left was busily tapping on the side of the hospital bed. His head had bandages over it and he had gauze taped to an injury that started at his neck and continued downward, hidden by the polka dotted hospital gown. He looked up at Bruce, his eyes dialating.

"Hello, my name is Bruce Wayne." Bruce thought about asking the man below how he was, but that would come out sounding condescending so he pick something else. "How are you feeling."

"Hello Bruce. I am feeling quite alright, thank you." Bruce eyes boggled a bit.

The doctor turned around after pulling a chart from the wall. "Well, I'll leave you two to it then. If you need anything," he pointed to a button on the wall," don't hesitate to call in a nurse."

Bruce nodded, knowing that the doctor had other patients to attend to, but feeling uncomfortable being left alone with the oddly familiar man. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but he thought he knew him somehow.

Without any warning, the man leapt out of the bed using his full body weight to fall on to Bruce, effectively pinning the startled man with one arm. "Who are you?" He asked dangerously in a low voice.

Bruce's first instinct was to reverse their positions and pin down the man atop him but quickly decided against it as he may've ended up injuring the man further. "I told you who I am," Bruce said, pushing him gently off his chest and supporting the man's body before it hit the ground. "My name's Bruce Wayne. I'm the head of Wayne Enterprises. Perhaps you may remember me from that?"

The brunet was shocked, but shocked was the understatement of the lifetime. Why had the man, a man that he had every intention to harm, just caught him from falling? It just didn't make any sense. "Then why are you here?" He tried.

"I'm here because I chose to be," Bruce supplied nonchalantly. "You survived a rather," he paused, searching for a word that wouldn't outrightly affect the man, "dangerous crash." He sighed, righting the man and carefully lifting him back into the hospital bed. "With your permission I'd like to document your survival. It'd be a thing of hope," Bruce finished, using the word that seemed to lose its value the more it was used.

"Hope?" The man repeated with bitter anger in his voice. "I can't see from long distances very well, well shapes and object and things but not lettering and such. The man who I used to be must have some sort of sight impairment. I have no recollection of who I am, who I was. And you tell me that I am to bring hope? I don't even have any myself." The man's ice blues stared deeply into Bruce's dark brown eyes. "Tell me. What is a man without memories of the man he was?"

"A fresh start," Bruce said, startling the brunet. It was the first thing that came to him. If he himself had lost all of his memories he would be able to live a normal life, unaffected by the misery of those around him. Unaffected by his deepest fears. The thought was tempting.

The man paused. "I...do not agree to the terms of a documentary. However I would be willing to complete a brief interview." He paused, head turning as his cheeks colored. "I think time around you would be good for me. I feel like I know you. Maybe...perhaps...you - you could help me. Help me find out who I really am."

Bruce nodded, catching the flush in the man's face and feeling his own start to warm.

The man offered his hand, waiting for Bruce to take it much like the nurse had done. Bruce had quickly caught on and, though with a measure of hesitation, took his hand, rubbing comforting circles in to the palm. The man leaned back onto the bed, closing his eyes. "Ask me something," he said, his relaxed voice barely above a whisper.

Bruce took a slow breath, eyes concentrated on the man before him. Something wasn't quite right. He recognized him but he couldn't exactly pinpoint from where. "What's your name?"

At that moment the nurse who had come to check up on the man had come in. "That's not exactly a question deemed appropriate for amnesiac."

Before Bruce could apologize, the brunet shot up staring at the woman with hateful eyes. "Shut up!" His breath became uneven as he squeezed the guardrail of the bed, "Leave."

The nurse was taken aback and slightly scared. It wasn't as if she hadn't dealt with this before, it was just that the man seemed so mellow and quiet in their last visit. Anger was a common response in some patients who had memory loss. The frustration of an empty mind tended to take its toll and leave only the option of lashing out. She looked to Bruce. "Would you feel more comfortable if we gave him a mild sedative or brought in someone to keep an eye on him?"

"That's quite alright, everything'll be fine." Bruce smiled and the nurse nodded, exiting.

"S...row..." The man muttered. "That's my name! I remember part of my name, he yelled excitedly.

"Sarow?" Bruce questioned, eyebrows raising.

Blue eyes flicked over to Bruce as the man held his gaze. "Yeah, I think that's it!" The man, Sarow his name is, flung his arms around Bruce, his heart beating rapidly. "Please don't leave," Sarow muttered.

"I will have to leave sooner or later," Bruce said, awkwardly rubbing the man's back.

"Than I'd rather it be later. Your presence is doing wonders for my memory." He pouted slightly. "And I don't like the feeling those 'sedatives' give me."

Bruce shook his head. There was no way he was going to have a hand in breaking this man out of the hospital. Especially because it was rather unlikely that they'd allow an amnesiac who had just been moved from ICU, who by the way hardly remembered his own name, just waltz out the front door. "I think you need more recovery time."

"Please?" Sarow begged. He clung to Bruce's chest, wanting to leave the place.

"When you're well," Bruce said with dismissive finality, standing up and leaving.

Sarow- at least it sounded somewhat familiar a name- sighed, waiting a full five minutes, yes, he watched the red hand as it caressed the twelve a fifth time, before finding the resolve to plop right back on to his overfluffed pillow rather than chase after the mysterious businessman like a fool.

The nurse re-entered, this time caution replacing her somewhat trusting, carefree attitude. Behind her was another nurse, a male nurse, with muscularly toned arms. He watched with a calculating look as the nurse approached with a clipboard. It was obvious his purpose was to step in if Sarow got out of hand. For some reason that thought made the brunet smirk.

"And how are you feeling right now?" The nurse smiled kindly but didn't step as close as she had before.

"I need to get out of this place," Sarow squirmed, moving his broken arm in to an uncomfortable position that instantly changed to shock after shock of pain. He winced, fighting the vocalization of that very pain as it tried desperately to pry past his lips.

The nurse quickly threw down her clipboard on to the nearest surface, a small decorative table it happened to be, and righted his arm. She nodded at the silent thanks that the pale blue-eyed man gave her and sat beside him.

"I know. Under normal circumstances we'd not even consider releasing you without the constant supervision of a family member or friend but this seems to be a special case. You seem to have a form of retrograde amnesia. The good thing about this is it doesn't seem severe - in less words meaning the doctors would expect you to have partial, if not full memory recovery."

"So...?" Sarow trailed off asking. He was starting to feel impatient. "When's the earliest I can leave?"

"We have to hold you for at least another full twenty-four hours, it's hospital policy for situations like this." She sighed. "But I do wish the media another story to spotlight in all of Gotham other than this." She shook her head before waving goodbye and exiting to continue her rounds for the night

'So technically I can't get out until Monday,' Sarow thought. He thought of the chances that he'd be able to find that man's house. It wasn't very likely. He knew close to nothing about the man. Bruce was his name. Perhaps someone could guide him? But that sounded ridiculous as well that just a mere citizen would know his address, not just because he didn't have faith in Gotham's people, he didn't, but knowing a person's address would be a bit extreme and he'd have to look twice at the man or woman who could answer that question.

He closed his eyes, the world darkening from behind his eyelids, and fell asleep.

Bruce laid on his bed, arms tucked behind his head as he racked his brain for the familiarity of "Sarow". He thought he recognized him but couldn't quite put a name to the face he somewhat remembered.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

A/N:: Reviews are appreciated, thank you for reading and I'll see you next time.


	4. Chapter 4: Follow the Bat

A/N:: Hey, another chapter? I must be on a roll. Thanks to all who have reviewed, favorited, and so on - it's a good feeling when I get those notifications.

Disclaimer~ Located in: Chapter 1

* * *

**Chapter 4: Follow the Bat (2/2)**

Sarow's fingers twisted in the sheets as he awoke in a cold sweat from a nightmare having.

It was one of those nightmares that were obviously nightmares. But no matter how hard he tried he just get out of it. There was a fear of being trapped.

He couldn't remember it, the dream vanished almost as soon as he shot up off the bed in the quiet hospital. He did remember seeing one thing before he awoke. A bat. It seemed like his recurring saving grace just so happened to the nocturnal animal.

Sarow looked over to the clock. It read 3:00AM from its place high up on the wall. He sat up, unhooking the IV and varous other things, making his heart monitor flatline. He sat there a moment before hearing a commotion on the lower floors as an alert was yelled that a patient need help.

He jumped up, running though the hall as his bare feet made small sounds against the oversanitized flooring. 'I have to get out of here,' he repeated like a mantra.

Around the corner there were stairs that led downward and he took them, continuously running, not stopping to even catch his breath. When he got to the bottom of the stairs he heard the turmoil as it grew louder upstairs. Sarow ignored it and opened the door, cautiously peeking his head in to the dark cool room. As he stepped in he felt cold concrete beneath his feet and heard a voice. The voice startled him into hiding behind a nearby pillar.

As it turned out it was just a stressed looking doctor filing into his car and driving off. So this was some sort of parking garage.

Sarow looked around, finding a room with various clothes in it. There were hospital gowns, and uniforms. He grabbed the doctors scrubs and put it on in favor of not revealing his backside to all of Gotham's early risers. From there he found a pair of shoes and put that on, quickly taking off in the direction he had seen the car exit to.

It was raining quite harshly outside and after only five minutes of aimlessly wandering down the street, he had become soaked.

There was a man next to him that was busy locking and securing his bike. "Hey," Sarow started, coming up to the man. He knew it was a bold request but he'd come this far. He had no choice but to ask. "Do you by any chance know of a Bruce Wayne?"

"Are you a tourist or something? Everyone with at least half a mind here in Gotham knows him. Big hotshot rich guy. Owns a huge corporation and," the man looked around before lowering his voice scandlously, "I hear he's quite the tiger between the sheets." Sarow's face turned red and the man laughed.

"What I wanted to know is where he lives, actually."

"Here," the man pulled out a small wad of folded cash. "Take a taxi, ask any driver and they'll know exactly where to take you. Have a good day." The man then proceeded to walk in to the coffee shop that they had been standing in front of.

Sarow was a bit taken back. He had never expected that kind of hospitality from a stranger especially not one of this big city. "Thank you," he yelled to the man's retreating back.

The man waved without turning around.

A nearby cab pulled up and the window rolled down. "Do you need a ride?"

"Yes," Sarow replied, feeling giddy at everything that was happening. Once he got in he handed the whole wad to the driver. "Do you know where Bruce Wayne lives?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." The driver accepted the money and began driving. The drive was long and quiet and the driver, unlike the nurse, didn't ask any questions. In the taxi business, he learned to not ask questions, especially in the city of Gotham.

A little while later they arrived and the taxi took off. The mansion stood proud, tall, and elegant looking.

Sarow just stood in front of the closed iron-wrought gate. Looking up at the place.

"Master Bruce, I believe you have a...a guest waiting outside."

Bruce looked up from his place on the couch in his baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. Taking an umbrella he opened the door, pressing a nearby switch to open the gate. As he walked closer he realized who it was that was standing there. Bruce ran up to the shivering soaked man and held the umbrella over him, quickly ushering him inside.

Alfred, seeing the situation, had returned with two large towels that Bruce took, wiping up and down the brunet's body to dry him. Without word Bruce took Sarow's hand and led him to his own room, handing him his clothes and carefully helping him in to them. As it turned out, the thin man only fit his shorts and a small black shirt that had shrunken in the wash a bit ago.

Sarow made eye contact with Bruce before his eyes drooped and he fell asleep where he stood. Bruce gently caught him, laying his unconscious body on to his bed and pulling the covers over him.

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing the man whom he had seen at the hospital when the man muttered something.

"Don't leave me," Sarow repeated in a faint voice, barely awake. He looked up at Bruce, eyes fighting exhaustion to make sure that his request went fulfilled.

"Okay," Bruce answered, taking the hand that the brunet had just offered him. And with that Sarow drifted off back to sleep.

For some reason he dreamt of bats. The safe protection of a single bat.

* * *

To be continued

* * *

A/N:: I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, I just wanted to leave this chapter off on a somewhat fluffy note. Reviews are loved and I'll see you next time.


End file.
